Of the many things the time around the solstice brings
There are many that sit ill with me and with many others
And not only the frantic formic scurrying to
Gather sweetness for a few days’ time that
All too often descends to stinging ass-showing and
Sharp mandibular work that tears and leaves scars

The orgy erupts again and again
Coating all the world in its delight
And provokes from no few their own
Sticky fluids clinging and dripping
Needing more than a few towels to wipe up
And ensuring spreading through the bush as
Seed scatters to the winds

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